


John Watson should never be left unsupervised.

by DrBDamned (orphan_account)



Series: Sweet Thing [6]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angry Sherlock, Cleaning, Fire, Furniture building, Grumpy John, Hospitals, Injured John, Jim is horny, John gets punished, John is a french maid??, John is a frilly apron, John is adorable, John is angry, John is so clumsy it's not even real, John likes to feel pretty, John on painkillers, John tries to start a fight, Love, M/M, Panicking, Pet Names, Protective Sherlock, Sexual thoughts, Sherlock is terrible, Some Swearing, Spanking, caring jim, like seriously, slight daddy kink, yay I got to tag that!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-11
Updated: 2015-10-08
Packaged: 2018-04-20 07:17:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4778396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/DrBDamned
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John is very good at lots of things, but building furniture is not one of those things. It's a good thing being cute IS one of those things though, otherwise people might not put up with so much of his idiocy.</p><p> </p><p>Takes place in AU after The Great Game. A week or so after John needs to be carried home by Jim.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. WTF John?

 

After the whole restaurant fiasco from the other week (which resulted in a sprained ankle for John and Sherlock gaining an extra point in the two geniuses constant rivalry), John understandably was feeling a bit out of sorts. A bit useless. His new-found relationship with Jim Moriarty was deliciously fantastic, and he'd never had so much sex in his entire life. But, as with every relationship, it had its downsides.

 

There was the constant arguing for one. He and Jim had many, _many_ differences in opinion, which often lead to bickering, then arguing, then lots and lots of shouting, then throwing things, then angry sex, then make-up sex, and then they'd not speak of the issue again (unless one of them was feeling particularly horny).

 

There was also the fact that John got kidnapped and endangered a lot, which John didn't necessarily see as a bad thing (er, hello, danger kink!), but apparently Jim (and Sherlock, and Sebastian, Mrs Hudson, Lestrade, etc) did.

 

But lately, the thing that had been bothering him the most was that he often felt a bit like a damsel in distress. If there's one thing Doctor Watson doesn't like, it's being in need. _He_ likes to help _others –_ not the other way round! But lately he's been too often carried, petted, prodded, bandaged, cuddled, coddled, and cooed over, and it's starting to get a bit annoying.

 

John scowls to himself.

 

He needs to do something to show he isn't helpless! But what...?

 

He spots out the corner of his eye a box that's been lying underneath their bed for some time now. In that box contains the parts to assemble a wardrobe (Jim had insisted they need another wardrobe for their roleplay costumes). But this wardrobe was more than a simple wardrobe; it was also a way for John to prove himself as a capable person. It's a challenge, and dammit, John is going to succeed!

 

 

**

 

 

When Jim had gotten up this morning, he'd been greeted by the sight of his kitten sitting cross-legged on the sitting room rug, surrounded by bits of wood and tools. He watched John frown over the instructions as he put on his tie and checked his messages. He would have loved to have watched his dear struggle all day long, but, unfortunately, work beckoned.

 

He grabbed his coat and keys and paused beside John on his way out the door.

 

“Whatcha doing, my dear?”

 

John didn't look up from his meticulous study of the assortment of nails in his hands.

 

“Proving my worth.”

 

Jim opened his mouth to say something, then decided against it. He bent down to give John a quick peck on his forehead, wished him luck, and left.

 

 

_**_

 

John frowns even harder. _He doesn't need luck._

 

 

**

 

 

Jim rolls his eyes at the man's pleads, and saunters out the warehouse, leaving Seb to deal with him. He rolls his neck, and grimaces at the unhealthy cracking noise it makes. He sighs heavily, and decides texting his buttercup might cheer him up.

 

**How's the DIY going, pretty thing? xxxxxxxx**

 

He doesn't have to wait long to get a reply – John knows to text back straight away, he'd learned what happens when he doesn't.

 

_**It's fine! Xxx** _

 

Seconds later, before he has the chance to reply, he receives another one from his John.

 

_**Though I could use a hand, Seb isn't available by any chance, is he? Xxx** _

 

Jim eyes his phone suspiciously; it wasn't like John to ask for help. And building a flatpack wardrobe hardly seemed like a two person job, either. But, he sighs, if anyone could fuck it up, it would be his kitten.

 

“Seb! Finish off that poorly dressed piece of dick, we need to give my boyfriend a hand!”

 

**Seb and I en route. Hang tight, baby xxxxxxxxx**

 

Jim grins to himself. That's the same thing he says when he's away to fuck John into the mattress.

 

 

 

 

The two of them are climbing the stairs to the flat only 4 minutes later, and Jim really did not like the fact that Seb seemed to be just as concerned as he was - they were all but running up the steps. As they approach the door, Jim becomes aware of a strange crackling sound coming from within the apartment. Jim was quite a big fan of setting people on fire when they don't give him what they want, so he's no stranger to the sound of it. His hands shake slightly as he fumbles for his key.

 

When it's finally unlocked, Jim shoves the door open and hits the wall with a bang. Seb and Jim stumble forward and take in the scene before them. The consulting criminal goes whiter than white, grabbing the wall to stop himself keeling over, and the burly former soldier's eyes are wide, his mouth hanging open in disbelief.

 

John lies unconscious on the floor, a poorly built wardrobe half on top of him. There are three sizeable holes in the wall behind the coffee table. A chainsaw is stuck in the floor. _Why on earth would he need a chainsaw?!_ At least a dozen half-drunk cups of tea litter the coffee table. The arm of the couch is on fire-

 

THE ARM OF THE COUCH IS ON FIRE??!!

 

Jim and Seb move as one. Seb sprints to the kitchen and yanks the fire extinguisher off the wall, and then starts attacking the quickly spreading flames with it. Jim runs over to his _fucking idiotic_ John, and starts tapping his face, trying to get him to wake up so he can _stop panicking_ and see how badly his kitten's been hurt.

 

John's eyes start to flutter just as Seb kills the last of the flames. He scrunches his face in obvious pain, and Jim is quick to settle him down by running a hand through his matted hair.

 

“Wha 'appened?” John squints up at his boyfriend, entirely confused as to why Jim looks like he's away to either strangle him, or hug him to death. His eyes flick over to Seb, who's panting, trying to calm himself down – and covered in foam. He looks back at Jim who's apparently decided to go with the strangling, if the look on his face is anything to go by.

 

“You need to find another way to 'prove your worth', dear. One that doesn't almost kill you, and burn my flat down.”

 

John can only pout in return. _He's gonna have a lot of making up to do..._

 


	2. John is a grump but we love him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim takes care of John. Or he tries to, at least.

They manage to shift the wardrobe off John (Jim decides to have a new one delivered – and already built), and it appears as though John has gotten away with a broken arm, and some mild bruising and scrapes. And a case of the frownies. He sulks all the way to the hospital – though he does keep apologising in between his huffs and whining. Jim, like the excellent boyfriend he is, takes it all in his stride and simply nods along, petting John's hair and fussing over the nasty cut on his cheek.

 

They arrive at the hospital in record time thanks to Seb's reckless driving, and the both of them help John out of the car and inside the waiting room. They don't have to stand in any queues, Jim doesn't even have to scare them into letting John go first – this is far from the first time John's had a trip to the hospital. They're escorted to a private room, and John (who simply looks bored with the whole scenario) is immediately being checked over and such. Seb leaves, as someone has to keep going with the work, and Jim simply stands and watches as they treat his clumsy little tart.

 

 

 

John gets away with - as Jim said, not that he's boasting or anything – a broken arm and a few minor bumps and bruises. Thankfully the break is neat, so it doesn't need surgery, and John is given some very strong painkillers to take home, and then is promptly (and a little reluctantly, though Jim can't think why, surely he doesn't _look_ evil) released into Jim's care.

 

Sebastian is still hard at work, so it's down to Jim alone to get his dear one back home safely. This should be simple, but John is surprisingly wriggly when he's high on painkillers. He also gets quite handsy.

 

“Doctor Watson, you cheeky devil, get your paw off my arse!”

 

John giggles, his cheeks flushed, eyes sparkling with drugs, and Jim tries not to melt a little inside. Jim mock glares at him and them moves to his other side – the one with the arm in its sling, so John can't reach to cop a feel. John pouts and staggers slightly to the left, and Jim has to catch him.

 

“Oh, now, don't be like that. You know I love a good feel-up, but not when you're drugged out of your wits, you horny devil. Now, let's get you in this cab.”

 

Jim hails the taxi down, and starts to shuffle John forward, when some random little bitch of a man comes out of nowhere and starts climbing in. Jim is away to step forward and threaten the shit out of him, but he's distracted by a shocked gasp from the little blonde man tucked into his side.

 

John is staring at the man in shock and disbelief. He sticks his chin out aggressively and starts to wobble over before Jim can stop him.

 

“Y-you! Hey, you! Yeah, dick face!” The man pauses, one leg in the door, and stares at John in bewilderment. “You s-stole our crab- I mean cab!” He clumsily shoves at the man's chest, who in return has to catch him when he starts to fall over in a wave of dizziness.

 

Jim, who was watching in amusement, strides over and snatches John from the man's hold, clutching him close to his chest.

 

“Don't _touch_ him,” Jim all but snarls at the poor fellow.

 

“I- I was just trying to help- ” He's cut off but an actual growl from the consulting criminal, and takes this as his cue to _get the fuck out of there._

 

Jim watches him go in satisfaction, while John flips him the bird and grins. There's some trouble manoeuvring John into the taxi, but eventually they're sorted and on their way back to Jim's (half-destroyed) flat. Jim is texting Seb for an update on their current client when he spots a drop of blood on his new tie.

 

“Noooooooo! This is my favourite one – eggshell just works so well on me! Johnny, you got blood on my tie, you slut!”

 

Distracted as Jim is trying to apparently lick the bloodstain out his tie, he fails to notice John clumsily swipe Jim's mobile from his hand and start to fiddle with the buttons. It's only when he hears it dialling, and then Sherlock's voice answering on the other end that he looks up in panic.

 

“ _Moriarty, this better be good.”_

 

Jim lunges at John and tries to grapple for the phone, but John has surprisingly quick reflexes for someone so high on painkillers.

 

“Sherlock! S'me! It's John!”

 

Sherlock's tone lightens immediately. _“Oh, yes, hello John. Are you quite alright? You sound a bit off.”_ Jim can only sit and watch in horror as John takes a deep breath and starts ranting.

 

“No! Actually, no, I'm _not_ okay, 'lock! Jim's gone and broken my arm,” John whines the last part and lets out a little whimper, feeling very sorry for himself.

 

Jim flinches when he hears Sherlock roar down the phone in anger.

 

“ _He's done WHAT?!”_ Jim does grab the phone then, before the situation escalates any further.

 

“No, no, Holmes, I didn't break his arm – shut up.. no, I swear! He was trying to build a wardrobe 'to prove his worth', as he put it, but, well, things went a little... wrong. As they tend to do with John.”

 

Sherlock sighs heavily on the other end. _“He does have a tendency to get himself into dangerous and unsavoury situations, yes...”_ Jim lets out a breath he hadn't realised he's been holding, but Sherlock continues, _“But if I ever,_ ever _discover that you've injured John in any way – non consensually, that is, it's not hard to deduce that John likes it rough in bed – I will tear off your penis and make you_ eat _it... and then I'll tell John all about how you put a microchip in his shoulder with a GPS so you can track him wherever he goes.”_

 

Jim's eyes widen in alarm, and he sneaks a peak at John, who is thankfully too engrossed in unravelling his jumper to pay any attention to the conversation.

 

“You wouldn't dare, you little bitch.”

 

“ _Just watch me. Make sure he has a bath, it'll help him sleep. I''ll be there to pick him up at 10 o'clock tomorrow morning so he can spend the day with me. Goodbye.”_

 

And before Jim can begin to insult him, Sherlock hangs up the phone.

 

Jim sighs and tiredly rubs a hand down his face. He looks over at John, who's managed to unravel half his jumper, and just keeps excitedly pulling at the thread.

 

“It's a good thing you're pretty, my sweet.”

 

 

 

Jim helps John bathe (but only because he wants to, not because Sherlock told him to – he hadn't even asked John, now he thinks about it), and, after drying him off and putting him in some cosy pyjamas, he hands John his toothbrush and steps out the room to get some water and painkillers for his now very drowsy kitten.

He comes back quickly, and opens his mouth to make a comment, but it falls short when he takes in the sight before him (this seems to be a recurring thing in his relationship with John, and he absolutely loves that this unassuming man can surprise and delight him so).

 

John sits on the side of the bed, his feet not quite touching the ground. There's some toothpaste around his mouth, and his toothbrush dangles from his slack lips. His head is nodding down to almost touch his chest, but then he startles awake, and blinks for a moment before he seems to remember what he was in the middle of doing. He starts brushing again very slowly, but it's not long before his eyelids are drooping once again, and his head starts nodding as he drifts off.

 

Jim wants to cry. He really, really wants to cry in that moment because his heart feels like it's going to explode but that's okay, it's okay, it hurts in the best way possible. This is Jim's favourite kind of pain.

 

He could stay in this moment forever, but John is at risk of choking and he really doesn't feel like going back to that shitty little hospital, so he gently pulls the toothbrush from John's slack mouth, startling him awake. He shushes and coos at him, wipes the toothpaste from his face, coaxes him into taking some more painkillers with a sip of water, and then tucks him into bed.

 

John mostly frowns and grumps at being manhandled so, but it doesn't stop him from whining when Jim goes to get into his pyjamas. Jim rolls his eyes, but changes quickly, and climbs into bed next to John, gently curling around him, letting John nuzzle his grumpy face into his neck. He picks up his bedside table to check his messages and take a quick selfie of him and John – good for blackmail, and as a background for his phone. He sends a copy to Sherlock, just to piss him off. Then he puts the mobile down, turns off the lamp, and snuggles down.

 

John seems to be uncomfortable and restless, fidgeting, and snuffling into him and their shared pillow. Jim wraps one arm around his waist and uses the other to stroke his soft hair, which has random tufts sticking up because it dried that way after his bath. He listens to John's breathing and smiles and smiles and starts to sing an Irish lullaby. Slowly John calms down and he relaxes into sleep. Jim's smile softens into a slight smirk. Works a charm every time.

 

He looks down at the little doctor in his arms, so loyal, so brave, so kind. No one's ever felt safe enough to sleep in a room with Jim before, never mind lie unconscious in his arms. But here is this tiny, little man, who Jim initially thought was so insignificant, completely trusting in him like no one has ever done before. John's undamaged hand clutches a little tighter to Jim's arm, and his chest tightens painfully again.

 

“Oh dear, kitten. Daddy's done a very silly thing,” he whispers into the dark. “Do you want to know what?”

 

John only grumbles unconsciously in reply, presses his face even more into the space between Jim's neck and shoulder. Jim sighs.

 

“I've gone and fallen in love with you.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm thinking this is going to be a three-parter actually, and chapter 3 will be John trying to make it up to Jim after wrecking his flat and other such things... would that be good? Leave a comment and let me know! I hope you like this chapter anyways!
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock


	3. It's punishment time, John

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John was very naughty and now he needs to be punished.

It's been a week since his poor itty sweetums broke his poor wee arm, and John is frowning a lot less and apparently feeling much better. He spent the majority of the week at 221B with Sherlock because the consulting detective is “much better equipped to care for John”, and “Jim is reckless, stupid, wears too much cologne, and doesn't buy the kind of jam John prefers”. Jim perhaps agrees with the the reckless comment, and he's now purchased the correct kind of jam; but everyone knows he's far from stupid and that he smells like vanilla and sandalwood. Furthermore, Jim hardly thinks a good carer is one that kidnaps their patient when they're having a nap on the couch!

 

John was adorably confused after falling asleep on Jim's couch and then waking up on Sherlock's couch at Baker Street. Confused then _furious._

 

But Sherlock had fed him Mrs Hudson's homemade soup (laced with painkillers to make John a bit easier to handle), and let him watch The Hobbit, and John was very content and has been since.

 

Until now. Because John was feeling a bit better now, and Jim was going to take full advantage of this and remind John that he has a lot of making up to do for last week. Daddy has a whoooooole list of things he's gonna make his kitten do.

 

Jim looks over to John, who is at the kitchen table on his laptop, no doubt looking for cases Sherlock can go on by himself (John has been banned from dangerous activities until his arm is fully mended- it was a unanimous decision from his friends. John's still mad at all of them). Jim glares at him – stupid John being a good best friend. He'd better make his move now before Johnny gets distracted.

 

“Kitten, sweetheart, come here!” He croons, smirking when John smiles warmly at him, closes his laptop, and wanders over to stand in front of his boyfriend. _So obedient._ Jim leans back on his chair and licks his bottom lip slowly, taking in the sight of John before him. John blushes at the blatant leering and Jim's smirk grows. He picks up the box sitting next to him on the arm of his chair and hands it to John.

 

“A present for you, my love.”

 

John eyes him curiously, but opens up the box nonetheless. His eyes widen, and he flushes from tip to toe.

 

“Ooh, pretty! Is it really for me?”

 

 

 

 

John really does look very pretty in his frilly pink apron, and he knows it. He puts it on straight away, and grins down at himself. He probably won't be as chuffed, however, when he finds out why Jim bought it for him.

 

“You look gorgeous, kitten! But the apron isn't really a present for you.”

 

John's face falls, and his bottom lip sticks out. “No?”

 

“No, my dear. This is a present for me. You remember when you tried to build a wardrobe but only succeeded in breaking your arm and setting my couch on fire?”

 

John pouts down at his broken arm and nods forlornly.

 

“And remember when you were building the wardrobe and you somehow managed to get a chainsaw stuck in the floor, punch four holes in my walls, and cover my Persian rug with glue?”

 

John huffs, then nods again.

 

“Well that's all been fixed now, but you still need to make it up to me, babydoll. So now that you've got on that adorable apron I bought you, you can grab a duster and get to work! I want this whole apartment to be spotless by the end of the day.”

 

And with that, he turns John around to face the kitchen, and gives him a sharp slap on his pert butt to send him on his way. John squeaks and blushes darker, turning his head to glare at Jim. Jim just stands there hands on his hips, and raises his eyebrows at his kitten. John huffs again then gets to work.

 

 

 

 

 _Really?_ Jim sighs to himself as he watches John belt out the closing lines to “I Want To Break Free” while he hoovers the new rug. _He's not supposed to be_ enjoying _this!_ He'll have to enforce a stricter punishment... Jim's eyes skim over to the kitchen and land on the knives on their rack. _Hmmm... no, wait, no, I'm not going to_ MAIM _my boyfriend just because he was a bit naughty. No, we only do sexy punishments with the kitten, we want to keep him happy. Plus Sherlock would strangle me... but what else can I do? Hmmm..._

 

“John, come here and take your clothes off!”

 

 

 

 

Jim can hardly contain his glee (or his boner) at the sight on his little kitten on his knees, scrubbing at the floor one-handed, now wearing nothing but his frilly pink apron.

John had been very confused as to what was happening when Jim had stripped him of his clothes and thrust a sponge and bucket at him while he just stood there, body suddenly exposed to the flat, gaping at his insane boyfriend. Jim had soon got him moving with another couple of quick slaps to his bare behind and the threat of more if he didn't “Listen to his Daddy like a good little soldier.”

 

And now here he is, glaring up at Jim who's sat himself at the kitchen table so he can watch with pure delight as John's cute little butt wiggles about. He takes a sip from his tea (prepared by John, obviously) and scrolls the internet in search of more outfits for his and John's sexy sex times.

_John would make an ADORABLE bunny, we must add that to the basket! A fisherman... nah. Oooh, what about – oh. Ohhh..._

 

_Oh, YES._

 

Jim's excited gasp has John pausing his work to look up at his boyfriend. Jim doesn't look up from his phone but snaps his fingers and points at the floor in an obvious order for him return to his scrubbing. John's face flushes with anger but he keeps scrubbing. Jim's doesn't care as he's already distracted sending a message to his ever-loyal Seb.

 

_Need you to pick up French Maid costume in John's size._

_Drop of at door in the next hour or I'll make you sooooorry!_

_John nakey, so don't come in. You know how he is... yawn... xxxx_

 

Jim giggles and stretches his leg out to stroke his bare foot up and down John's butt, who's eyes widen in terror even if he never stops his dutiful cleaning of the floor.

 

 

 

 

Seb rings the doorbell only 37 minuted later. _He'll be getting a raise next week._ And when Jim goes to open the door his right-hand man has already fled the building but there is a promising looking box sat by Jim's feet.

 

“SWEETCHEEKS,” Jim hollars into the flat. “I'VE GOT YOU ANOTHER PRESENT!”

 

 

 

 

It's surprisingly hard to convince John to let Jim put him in the costume. John usually _loves_ to dress up, but apparently this is “a step too far” and he “doesn't even know what he's done to deserve this”. At that line, Jim merely raises an eyebrow, causing John to frown and grumble about “accidents” and “rubbish boyfriends”.

 

Only minutes later he's in the damn French maid costume.

 

And, _oh,_ what a sight.

 

 

 

John standing on the tips of his toes (he's still not tall enough even with the black patent heels he's wearing) reaching up with his feather duster to clean some shelves, ruffled skirt riding up to reveal a bare bottom just asking to be spanked.

 

John bending over the back of Jim's chair to wipe at the tea stains on the windowsill, butt once again exposed, just asking to be _taken,_ his lace-trimmed headpiece sliding forward slightly.

John pouting at Jim, his good hand wielding the duster. His sexy kitten is _soooo mad,_ and it excites Jim to no end. Johnny is so much fun when he's angry.

 

Jim snaps photo after photo as he stalks John around the flat while he does his chores. They'll certainly cheer him up when he's having one of his darker days. Cheer him up and _turn him on._ He sends the one of angry John pouting at Jim to Sherlock. He doesn't hate the man so much that he'd make him miss out.

 

He also accidentally sends the one of John bent over the chair to Mycroft, but no one has to know about that.

 

 

 

His little maid has his back towards Jim as he lazily dusts some shelves and Jim takes this moment of distraction to sneak up on him. One hand wraps around his waist, while the other glides over the hem of the fishnet stockings to sneak up the back of his frilly skirt, kneading at the soft flesh.

He leans in to place chaste kisses against John's exposed neck. His darling hums in appreciation and leans back into Jim who breathes out a laugh.

 

“Oh, Johnny, my dear, you've been so good for me today. Daddy's enjoyed his present from you very much.” John smiles sweetly. “But there's just one more thing Daddy has to do to make sure you never do something so naughty again...”

 

John's eyes snap open and he goes immediately tense. Jim slowly lets his hands slide up to grip John by his shoulders, turning the handsome blonde to face him, then grasps his not-broken hand to lead him over to Jim's chair, whose owner takes a seat and looks up at a nervous John, licking his lips.

 

“Lie across Daddy's lap, please, kitten.”

 

John sucks in a sharp breath and flushes a beautiful shade of crimson, but he knows better than to keep his Jim waiting and promptly crawls over his lap, his stocking-covered legs dangling helplessly above the floor. His right hand grips the arm of the chair, the left tucked in between the two men. Jim looks hungrily down at his lap, silently thanks himself for being so brilliant, and lifts up the skirt to reveal a perfect little bottom. Now, let's get started.

 

“Hold on tight, cupcake.”

 

The first hit surprises them both; John with the pain of it, and Jim with how much it arouses him. John's cheeks jiggle and he lets out a small squeal, urging Jim on.

 

The next four hits come in quick succession and leave red hand-shaped marks on John's ass. Jim hardens in his trousers as John moans and grumbles, squirming and wriggling deliciously in his lap.

 

“Now, Johnny, are you going to do anything so reckless and bad again?”

 

Hesitation. Jim spanks his rear again, forcefully.

 

“Nooooo!”

 

“That's right.”

 

Another ten strikes, sharp and quick and painful, have his Johnny whimpering slightly, his feet kicking up in the air as he struggles in Jim's grasp.

 

“Stop being so naughty and apologise to Daddy!”

 

There's no hesitation with John's reply this time. “I'm _sorry,_ Daddy! I'll never be bad again, I promise! I'll do whatever you want me to do!”

 

Well, _that_ certainly is an apology. Jim's erection is pushing painfully against his trousers now and he thrusts up slightly to push it against John's stomach, startling his pretty boy, who starts up his squirming again, only serving to rub at Jim's cock, which gets even harder.

 

“Nuh uh uh, baby, you lie still, I'm not done yet.”

 

“B-but, _Daddy!_ I said I was sorry, please- ”

 

A firm smack on his bottom cuts off John's pleading.

 

Jim continues his fun.

 

 

 

 

 

The next day sees John at Baker Street, helping Sherlock with some research into a case. He makes sure to stand all day, pretending to be too occupied to sit down. Sherlock sees right through his façade, but makes no comment. John knows that he knows. John doesn't know that Sherlock also wants to try out spanking him. John would probably be angry if he knew that.

 

Sherlock huffs and dramatically chucks a heavy leather-bound journal across the room, where it hits the wall and thuds to the floor. John glares at him. Sherlock smiles.

 

“John, I need you to send an email for me.”

 

“And why can't you do it yourself?”

 

Another huff.

 

“Fine, fine, I don't even know why I asked!” John marches over to the kitchen table (Sherlock was closer, but it doesn't help to argue that point to the insufferable man) where Sherlock's laptop lies, and opens it up, pressing the button to turn it on. He bundles up some of the papers scattered about as he waits for the laptop to fire up, then he takes a seat, looking at Sherlock. “Who am I writing to and what do you want me to- ”

John cuts off abruptly, and Sherlock turns in his seat, frowning in curiosity and slight annoyance.

 

“John?”

 

At the sound of his name, the doctor's head snaps over to him from where his gaze was locked on to the laptop screen so fast Sherlock worries about him damaging his spine. John's nostrils are flared like a bull and his eyes are alight with anger.

 

Sherlock swallows.

 

He slowly, carefully gets up and walks calmly over to stand behind where John is currently sitting, seething with rage for no apparent reason.

 

Sherlock looks to the screen.

 

Ah.

 

No, right, perhaps there was a reason for the rage.

 

“WILLIAM SHERLOCK SCOTT HOLMES, WHY IS YOUR SCREENSAVER A PHOTO OF ME DRESSED AS A FRENCH MAID?!”

 

Sherlock pales considerably.

 

_Should I tell him about the photo Mycroft got sent, too?_

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long! I've been terribly busy lately and I just couldn't find the motivation for this chapter! But here it is! Just something quite light and kinda smutty (I hope??). Comments are always welcome! Let me know if I've done anything wrong! Thank you for reading :) there will hopefully be lots more Johniarty adventures to come! If you have any prompts you want filled feel free to ask! You can also find me on tumblr at doctorbdamned.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock

**Author's Note:**

> Sooooo, this is gonna be a two-parter! Oooh! I do love to write injured John and panicking Jim (if you can't already tell).  
> Thank you for reading! Feel free to leave a comment if you like - it really does make me smile!
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock


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